Sunday, March 25, 2007

Things that hide in bushes

First we followed the girl who had come to stay, up the green tunnel lane to the rocks at the top of the hill. It was late in the evening, the sun an orange ball in a pink sky. Even the complicated language of birds was silent and the wind was still. Not yet night, but soon the light would fall and the early night time creatures had begun to wake.

They rustled in the bushes, and squeaked and yawned from their day of sleeping, and we could hear them, and we could smell them and our whiskers twitched. But they hid from us, and though we wanted to stay and spend the night hunting high on the hill, to catch them and taste them, She called us. And so we walked home to a warm house and a plate of food and left the wild to the night time creatures. For up here there are other hunters who leave their scent for us to find and wonder at when we walk in the daylight.

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